Childlike Innocence And Serial Killer Fathers
by paintedallup
Summary: Heroes; Sylar and Elle; Noah, uncle!Peter


"Are you sure I'll like it, _mommy_?"

Every time he's about to do or try something new, he says those seven words being even cuter then he already is (which for him is _easy_).

And I mean _each_ and _every_ time (and it never seems to get old and I doubt it ever will) the first day of school, which he loved more then I ever did (because I never really _went_), a new movie and what was happening at the very moment, a new _food_.

A piece of bread with an egg in the middle of it was smiling up at him with the words_ 'eat me, Noah'_ on the plate with ketchup.

"I'm sure, _baby_. I'm sure because I loved eating this when I was your age."

(which _wasn't_ a lie, because the only lie I would ever tell him had to do with his father, the _psychotic_ _killer_)

"If you say so."

To him, who was still in the childhood rose colored glasses where mom and dad can do not evil (I should know, I had mine on _far_ beyond childhood) and my word to him now is _golden_.

And I plan on keeping it that way for as long as I can, being the ten percent of parents that don't _mentally scar_ their children or let them down, which with my _past_ and _future_ is going to be quite hard.

"So, _buddy_, how is it?"

Like the first day that he was placed in my arms (and after screaming my head off for _drugs_ and _lots_ of them, because I'd rather be knocked out then _fry_ every alive) and I looked in his eyes, I saw a mix of both of us (_Sylar_ and _Elle_, tragic), but all the good parts were separated and mixed together and put into one single child.

And no thing or person (you can guess _who_) is going to corrupt that, even if I die trying my _little boy_ will be loved twice as much as the rest of the world and will have no need to follow the path of his _so called_ father.

"Really _good_!"

-

"Your a _mother_?"

He (_Uncle_ _Peter _as Noah calls him, well at least he doesn't call him _daddy_, no he saves that for _Mohinder_) wasn't the first to be shocked (mouth open, eyes wide, _the works_) at the fact that I had crated this pure little angel before them, hell even I was surprised myself.

"Is it that surprising, _Peter_? I could say the same thing about your own mother. (but I won't because I wish to keep my head)"

The only thing he could do was agree (because it was fact that anyone with _eyes_ and _brains_ could clearly see) and the only thing I could do was wait for him to fly off, on those invisible wings of his, or at lest say why he's here darking my doorstep.

"Who's the _father_?"

It was almost funny (but in both the good _laugh-out-loud_ way and the bad _he-doesn't-want-to-have-my-babies _way) the way he said it like all the looks and that one kiss, that lasted way beyond the one I shared with his brother (_hehe_), could knock me up.

But we're talking about _little bitty_ Peter who may say he is not but is the most gullible person alive as both a _child_ and an _adult_ (/_teenager_, just look at his emo hair which is trying to grow back).

"Who else? That _almost-brother_ of yours but of course."

"Or course, is he here, are you two _together_?"

The disgust was the easiest thing to spot on his face, besides the scar that's longer then the one _Noah's_ father gave me, because these days not much (most of all _happiness_) showed on that face, it was almost _eerily_ calm.

(too much like little_ Claire Bennett,_ the one nowadays with brown locks instead of blond and a _stone-cold heart._ Trust me I know better then most, and so does _Peter_ maybe even more then myself)

"Are you trying to tell a joke (as if he could anyway) or something, _Pete_? The man tried to saw off the top of my head, rule one of the girlfriend/boyfriend rules -never try and kill each other. Are you done?"

He didn't look guilty (as if that could happen these days, he's _guiltless_ because he's _soulless_) and I didn't need any pity from anyone but most of all _him_.

"Mommy, who's _he_?"

My_ little boy _(and I say _my_ a whole lot these days because he's here in my arms and not his father's, finally _fate_ got it right), the one that's tugging on my sleeve like always, seems to be just like his '_mommy_' a word I thought would never pass through anyone's lips about me but like most of the time I was _wrong_.

He's got my fire that was almost stolen away _countless_ times, the curiosity that_ killed the cat_ and killed me at many points in my life and _thank god_ he doesn't have the main part of his _sinless_ mother, the _crazy_.

"This, _baby_, is – is your _Uncle_ Peter! Now be nice and great him like a good boy."

(and that my friends, and _enemies_, is how _Peter_ just had to come around each and every week, _oh joy_)

-

Nightmares are things that appear when they are _uninvited_ and _unwanted_ and always they are filled to the brim with the bogymen (in which for me I never had the _father_ to check under the bed and in the closet) that come in many shapes in sizes.

And for the longest time mine has had one face and one face _alone_, Gabriel _freaking_ Gray.

The one thing he liked doing was making sure those nightmares (that always come right on time _each_ and _every_ night) came true and so far they all have come to life right before my terrified eyes but this time it was so different it was almost _scary_.

"_Sylar_."

After years of watching in the shadows (I could sense those chilling eyes on me anytime of the day) keeping a close eye on the _both_ of us, he finally stepped out and at this very moment was giving his son a _hug_.

(better hide the back of your head _honey_, this _little wife_ has a forty with your name on it in her back pocket)

"_Mommy_, this my friend from school I was talking about yesterday, but his name isn't _Sylar_ it's Gabriel, and he's my second best friend in the whole _wide_ world!!"

"Who's your first, _buddy_?"

(_buddy, son, pal_. He said those words with something I never thought he had in any part of his body, _love_)

"_Mommy_, but of course. She's _Uncle Peter's_ too, he really likes her that's what he told me. (might have nip that in the butt before it becomes '_mommy, you have to marry uncle Peter'_ like the whole thing with _Mohinder_ all over again)"

"Great, I'll just have to meet _this_ Uncle _Peter_ of yours."

(my tongue was on fire being held in like the good girl I've never been able to be, _'get away, get the fuck away from my son, Sylar!'_ but Noah's already learned enough swears from _Uncle Peter_ to last him a lifetime)

My _maternal instinct_ was turned up to high the moment his smile was not shining at me but him, the father that I said with _cutesy metaphors _was buried six feet under and I was all but ready to spring into action the moment _Noah_ was safely tucked away.

But then my friends it was time to fire up my finger tips, _oh god _it's been so damn long but worth the wait.

"That's great, _Noah_, why don't you run inside and get ready for your bath. I'll just say hello to your friend here and you'll see him another day, _okay_?"

The words that came out of my mouth were far from what my mind was thinking about his _father-__dearest_ (#$%$#%$^#$$$$, and that's just one thought) but at least he won't be there to see someone other his _'loving mommy' _coming out.

(the old me wouldn't have given a crap, but she's deader then Adam _freaking_ Monroe)

"_Elle_, go ahead yell your lungs out, kill me, rip me to shreds like before but just know I had to see him. I've know him since he was a baby, even if he does not know me that doesn't make me love him less."

Before the scorned women in me (that never really was put to rest) could come swinging out just like before, with each part of me lightning up like a circuit, something came over me, and that very thing might as well be the _death_ of me.

"_Fine_, I won't do anything but the one thing your afraid of, I'm going to forgive you until your ears can't handle the _goddamn_ word anymore. Got that?"

For some reason or another (_sane_ or _not_, because it's about time I did something _crazy_) the smile that was resting on his lips to me was as real as the sun that setting behind us, and so were the tears, that never really fall, in his eyes.

"Got it."

(but there were rules, there had to rules and lots of them, because in no way was I letting him back in my life just like that)

"For now, you can tell him your not only his second friend best in the whole _wide_ world (remember who's _first_) but also his father. He'll _love_ that, and you'll get Friday's with him for now, and don't even try to get any Mondays."

He came in for the kiss that would make all of this real (the kiss of _forgiveness_) but the only thing he got, the only thing I was ready for was a hug, short and so brief that we barely touched.

(it was nothing like before, where each and every body part was _side_ by _side_)

"_Thank you_."

"Don't thank me, just _shut up_ and go and be the father he's never had. (before he believes that _Peter_ is his father for the second time this week)"

The questions will came at me like razors, cutting in to try and get out the truth, and most of them will be coming from _'uncle Peter_' who's lips were a comfort over these long years but when the '_whys_?' come I'll just say the truth without even trying to lie.

It was about time.


End file.
